


I'll Catch You When You Fall

by orphan_account



Category: Septiplier- Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Drug Use, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Self Harm, non-youtube au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 13,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has seen his fair share of hell. He was born into a broken family and has been stuck in the same hell for his entire life until one day his roomate sees his true colors and helps him find true hapiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught in the Act

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is going to be very dark and triggering to people who have these issues. If you don't think you can mentally handle it, please do not read this. This is soley based on what I have seen/ experienced so these senarios and reactions may not occur to everyone.  
> If you struggle with any of these things, I urge you to get help. There is such thing as being happy again.

I slid the cold, silver blade across my arm.

_Well there goes two days clean_ ,

I couldn’t help but to think. I don’t care though. I don’t mind watching my own self demise. I kinda enjoy it, knowing that I’m in control of myself. To finally control who lets me bleed. To control what is done to myself. To control what misery I want to inflict to cover up the others that parade my mind. I glance down to see blood running down my arm. There's at least eight new ones that take up my entire underside of my forearm, perfectly parallel to each other. The cool blood running down my arms sends a fucked up form of euphoria through me. I sigh with relief. I sit against my bedroom wall, blood dripping onto my jeans and wooden flooring but I don’t care. I let the adrenaline flow through my veins, killing the sorrow and anxiety as it moves it’s course. Glancing over to my desk, I see the bag of cocaine I picked up only a few hours ago.

_Might as well keep this high going. I don’t want to come back down. I don’t want to remember. I want this self-inflicted happiness to continue on, even if it means I die in the process_

 

~

 

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling giggling for no good goddamn reason. The drugs sending my brain to a place I haven’t been in years. Before I was hit. Before I cut, Before I discovered the ways these chemicals could fuck with my brain so it could feel happy, even if it’s temporary. Before everything went to shit. I hear the floorboards creak downstairs.

_What the fuck? Nobody’s supposed to be home?_

I sit up and wait to see if anyone is home, but the creaking ceases and I lay back down, basking in my temporary glee. If only this could last forever. Suddenly, I hear a gasp and a saddened voice say my name. I sit up only to see him standing there, looking at me in my disheveled state; dried blood on my arms, the fresh ones a deep red with the color of a light sunburn surrounding them and many more, all in different stages of aging litter my arms. There’s cocaine residue left in my moustache and my eyes are bloodshot and puffed from the hours of crying and the toxic happiness I let into my system.

_This is gonna be a shitty high._


	2. Discovery

I come back to my apartment, relieved that I got off work early. I clumsily fumble with my keys to unlock the door.

_Odd, I think, Where the hell is Jack? Usually when I come home, he’s sitting on the couch playing a video game._

Instead of being greeted with boisterous laughter, the apartment is eerily silent. I search around the apartment, but see him nowhere. I start heading up the stairs to my room when I hear laughter.

_What the hell?_

I walk over to Jack’s room and see him laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, laughing at god knows what. “Sean?” I quietly say. Suddenly the small frame on the bed sits up and I am greeted with the things I never expected out of a character like him. Blood crusted down his arm, countless scars covering that small visible section, and who knows how many more elsewhere. A white dusting covers his upper lip and his eyes are sunken in, the ocean that he usually carries has turned stormy, his eyes sunken in and reddened. Tear stains were prevalent against his skin

“Shit” He heard the boy mutter as he threw himself back onto the bed. “You were supposed to be at work for another two hours,”

“Got let off early. What’s going on?” I ask, “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Long story for another day. Let me ride out this high. I paid for it and all.”

Cocaine. My best friend is on cocaine and cuts himself,

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“We can talk later”

“I’m holding you to your promise”

“Whatever”

    ~

I sit in the living room and sob. How did I not notice? The long sleeves despite the LA weather? The random spurts of anger or frustration? The sudden seclusion? How could I be so oblivious? I hear footsteps come from down the stairs. I turn to see a perky Irishman behind me.

“Hey Mark! What’s got you down?” I couldn’t help but run over and hug my friend.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have helped you sooner” “

What are you- oh” Jack stepped away and looked at the floor “I forgot about that.” his voice trailed off, nerves prevalent in his voice.

“Look,” I slowly approach him “You don't have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I don’t want to go to sleep at night knowing I might wake up to find you in that state again...or worse” I sigh as I remember what I had saw only hours prior. “Please, let me find you help. Let be there for you.” A look I haven’t seen before came over the other boy's face

“You’re just gonna leave me like everyone else does. Nobody actually wants to see me happy. They say they do only to make me feel hopeful then only to break me more.” a sob comes out as he finishes those last words. “Sean, if I didn’t give a fuck about you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. I can only help you if you’ll let me. I’m not leaving you though. I’ll be here for you through all of this. Please-” I collapse to the ground in a fit of sobs. My only best friend is suffering and I’ve been blind to it. I feel a cold set of arms around my back.

 

“I’ll try. I’ll try and let you in.”


	3. Backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one contains some depictions of sexual and physical violence. Please read if you believe you are able to read it.
> 
> This work is 100% fictional. The way I have made Jack's parents treat him is innacurrate. They behave this way only for plot. Do not believe they treated Jack like this as this is 100% fictitious.

We sat out on the patio for hours, staring off into the LA night sky. Skyscrapers lit up the sky, traffic raced by, going to their homes to live their own life. Neither of us have said a thing or want to for that fact. How do you approach the fact that your family beat you, threw you out onto the street, ended up with an abusive, drugged up prick as a boyfriend who got off to beating the shit out of you and using you as a fuck toy whether you wanted it or not?

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I hear his deep voice dance through the air, accompanied by painful tones within it.

“Where do I start? Well, being the unplanned child kinda put me at a disadvantage in my family. All my siblings were treated well. I, however, was not so fortunate. My parents enjoyed making my life a living hell. Pointing out every flaw I have, beating the everloving shit out of me for getting lower than a B in a class. Hell, one time my mother stabbed me with a broken beer bottle cause I accidently bumped into her. I was picking glass shards out of my stomach for two days after that. Then, I came out. Not willingly- my father overheard me talking to a friend outside. Told my friend I didn’t care what someone’s package was and then my dad lost his shit. Second I waked in the door, I had my head slammed into a wall. I couldn’t hear what was being said as the blow fucked up my hearing temporarily and I couldn’t see either as blood from my head went into my eyes. I remember my dad smashing shit on me, getting punched in the face, kicked, and eventually hurled out the door and was told to never step foot on their property again. So, I roamed the streets of Dublin for six months until I met a guy, Gale. He helped me out and brought me to McDonalds to get food. After living off of what you can rummage out of garbage cans and steal from stores; this might’ve been a five star meal. We sat there and talked for hours and he invited me back to his place. Of course, being as I had no place to stay- a stranger’s house was a lot better than under the dumpster of some alleyway. At first, Gale was a sweetheart. He got me new clothes, made sure I ate, helped me find a job at a hotel- things that have never been done for me before. Of course, good things cannot last for me because he became my new nightmare. Before I knew what was happening, he would beat me just as my parents did. He smashed my nose in, cracked ribs, even threw me out of a moving car once. He took it to a different level though- one my parents would never stoop to- as scummy as they may be. Gale enjoyed his parties. He enjoyed getting high and fucking around. One night however, he came back to the apartment we shared with three of his friends. They pinned me down, forced a roofie down my throat and before I knew it I was out. I know damn well what happened because the second I sobered up, they all did it again. THey each had their own turn with me. No matter how much I cried or how loud I screamed, they just kept going. The next day while they were still passed out, I stole all of Gale’s money, took what little stuff I could fit into a suitcase, and left. Booked a flight to Boston and stayed there for two days until I could fly to LA. After landing here, I found a homeless shelter to stay at for about three months until I found a job and then you know the rest.” I stared off into the city, watching as the city stars twinkled. That’s the only thing miss about home- seeing real stars. The lights from the buildings suffice but it will never be the same. I miss going out to the field by my house and stare at the stars while the rest of my family slept inside the little cabin. It was the one good thing that life offered me. I glance over at Mark, his blue hair reflecting light, looking much like a night sky himself. There is clear proof that he had been crying.

“Jack…”

“What?” I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around me.

“I’ll never let that happen to you again.”


	4. Platonic Domestic Love

It killed me to know that the best friend I have ever had had been destroyed to this extent. Using self destruction to regain some feeling into his life. As each word left his mouth, I felt tears start streaming down my face.

_How could someone destroy such a beautiful soul?_

He was a transfer student at the college I was attending. I was finishing my medical engineer degree and he was in his third year for audio engineering. He was in my Physics class and we were drawn to each other as we both had eccentric hair colors and were friendless. We talked for the entire class and immeditely became best friends. I couldn’t hold back my tears that this kind hearted man had been ruined to the extent of not seeing his worth. I look over at Jack, who is staring at me with tears in his eyes.

_Never again._

_Never again will someone break you to the point you’ve been broken to._

“Jack…” I barely mutter out.

“What?” the Irish boy says, defeat in his voice. I move over and gently wrap my arms around his cold, thin body.

“I’ll never let that happen to you again.” I pull him close to me and feel him begin to cry onto my chest. We stand on the patio for what feels like hours, him crying as I just hold him under the starless sky.

“Let’s get inside, you’re getting cold,” I whisper to him softly. I lead him back into the house and we call it a night.

~

I hear an annoying screech come from my bedside.

“For fuck’s sake,” I groan, slamming the alarm’s snooze button. I roll out of bed to see it’s 7:45 am.

 _I start my shift at 7 though?_ Oh that’s right. I’m surprising Jack. On my day off, and I’m still waking up at a time a reasonable member of society would.

_Dammit Sean, you better appreciate this._

I trudge down to the kitchen and turn on the the coffee pot. Waiting for that to start, I fry up some bacon and work on making pancakes. Typically, I’m not one to make breakfast- I just eat if I have the time, but I know Jack enjoys this and today is the day.

_Today is the day I am going to help you out of this rut you’ve been stuck in for years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I got a beta to help edit my chapters (s/o to dyslexia). Please go check him out, he writes a lot of angsty kpop fics so if you are in that fandom- go check him out! He is AllTheFeels on here! Thank you!  
> -Bails


	5. First Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got really long compared to the others I have posted, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

I wake up to the aroma of bacon and pancakes floating throughout the house.

 

 _The fuck? Mark isn’t a morning person? Why the hell is he cooking actual food?_  

 

I head to go downstairs, but I’m stopped by a beautiful tune roaming the house. Is Mark...singing? I cannot make out the words, but it’s a calming sound that can lull anyone to sleep. I sit with my back against the door and take it all it. The angelic voice coming from downstairs, the fresh food being prepared, the sun being out and bright. I feel...relieved. Glad I have finally let the demons that have stirred in my chest for years out.

 

_You’re gonna get fucked over though._

_He doesn’t care, He’s just like the others._

_He’s gonna build you up, only to break you even more._

 

I shake my head, hoping to rattle the thoughts out of my mind. I zone back into the melody coming from downstairs. After what seems like forever, I feel the door get pushed open, jarring me from my mind.

“Jack?” Mark asked, chuckling at me now sprawled out on the floor, “Why were you against the door?”

I feel my face turn bright red. Oh, I was just listening to the most angelic voice radiate throughout the house but I was too lazy to actually go downstairs, no big deal.

“Felt like it,” I somehow stammer out. Real. Fucking. Clever.

“Well, I made breakfast and thought maybe we could also talk more about...things” he trails off.

 

 _Why is he so scared to talk about my cutting or drug use? I’m not a thin piece of glass, on the verge of breaking_.

 

“Okay?” I ask and head downstairs. This shit is gettin’ weird.

 

~

 

After we finish breakfast, which was amazing may I add, we sit in the living room and play GTA.

“Okay,” I say, breaking the ice to the topic Mark was avoiding at all costs possible, “What are these ‘things’ you want to talk about?” I glance over and see the older man’s skin turn as white as mine.

“Well,” he slowly turns to face me, “how can I help?”

“Huh?”

“What can I do to help you that you would be comfortable with?”

 

_Well shit. Wasn’t expecting to be handing over my knives, blades, and drug stash at 10:30 am._

 

“Follow me.” We both silently head up to my room and I lead him over to my closet.

“The box in the back-right corner,” I point at a worn cardboard box that holds the things I’ve been using to keep me sane for the past nine years. I watch as Mark grabs my life line and looks it over. The box has duct tape covering up splits and holes. There’s water damage at the top of it from back when I lived on the streets. At that time, it kept the few belongings I had, but now it keeps the things that keep me alive.

“Can I open it?” he asks, quietly, looking at me with the softest eyes I’ve seen in awhile.

 

 _That’s how Gale used to look at you_.

 

I bite my lip and close my eyes.

 

_He is not like Gale._

_He will never be like Gale._

 

“Hey, you okay?” Mark asks, setting the box down onto my bed, walking over to me wiping a tear from underneath my eye. How long was I out of it?

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I stutter out, “You can look in it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Mark walks over and sits on my bed, opening my box.

 

_Well, here goes nothing._

 

I watch as Mark looks through the box, each item he looks over, his face gets sadder.

“Come here,” Mark says, not making eye contact with me, “Please?” He looks up at me, his eyes are filled with tears and sadness.

 

_Why is he caring so much? N_ _obody is supposed to care._

 

I walk over and sit by him and feel arms wrap around my waist. I glance down and see the contents of my sacred box for probably the last time. Four knives, a bowl, some razor blades, a quad of weed, 10 grams of coke, and my suicide note for when I finally decided to give the world what they wanted. I glance over at Mark and see him getting teary eyed.

 

 _Why the fuck is he so emotional about this? It’s not like he cares, right?_  

 

"I wish you would’ve told me,” the resonating voice softly said, breaking me from my thoughts.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you. You just came home early and accidently found out. I never wanted you to know,” I whispered, staring at my clammy hands.

“Why?”

“So you wouldn’t fuck me over like everyone else in my life has,”

“Jack,” he choked out, his emotions clearly evident in his voice, “I would never and I mean never do what they did to you. I never want to see you hurt again, okay?”

 

What the _fuck_?

_Nobody is supposed to give two shits._

_He needs to stop giving a shit._

_Please stop giving a shit._

 

“Can I read the note?”

“Not in front of me, please” I whispered. If he’s emotional about this box, he’ll probably lose his shit when he reads that and not let me leave his side for a month at least.

“Okay,” he sets the box down and does something I wasn’t expecting. An almost bone crushing bear hug. I could feel something in the hug.

 

Love?

Empathy?

Care?

 

_He just pities your pathetic ass. Don’t kid yourself._

 

I feel something stream down my face.

 

_Am I...crying? Why the fuck am I crying?_

 

Mark senses my tears and rests his head on mine and then the wall bursts. I turn into a hysterical sobbing mess onto my roommate’s shirt.

 

_Real fucking appealing, Sean. Way to let your guard down. Have fun when he fucks you over._

 

We sit on my bed, in each other's arms for what feels like a small eternity. Him comforting me as a lose my shit into his chest. 


	6. The Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer; this chapter has a suicide note in it. There is no suicide attempts in this chapter, but there is implications of it. If you do not feel comfortable with suicide mentions, please skim over the note (it is in italics and centered)

As I look into the box, I feel my heart shatter.

Blood stained knives, various amounts of drugs, pipes, and a mysterious note. Why is there a note in here?

_Oh. No._

_Please tell me it’s not what I think it is._

“Can I read it?” I mutter. I see the little bit of color in his face flood out. Well that answered that.

“Not in front of me, please,” he chokes out.

“Okay,” I set the box down and look into the stormy oceans that allows his to see the fucked up world that has ruined me in the worst of ways. I see tears flow down his cheeks. My chest cramps up and sadness and anger pump throughout my body. How could somebody do this to someone so kind hearted and beautiful? I hesitantly approach him and wrap my arms around his smaller frame. I feel warm tears spill out onto my shoulder and I can’t take it anymore. I pull him in closer and rest my head on his cowering body. I feel him sob hysterically and I pull him closer to me and slowly lead him onto his bed. After getting him onto the bed, I hold him for what feels like hours. After awhile I hear some soft snores and look down. The green haired boy is sound asleep. I smile down and wipe away the tears left over from earlier. He looks so peaceful and at ease,

_Kiss him._

Wait what the _hell?_  Why should I, a heterosexual male, kiss another male? Especially in this situation?!

_We both know you aren’t heterosexual. We’ve known this since high school. Stop denying it._

I shake the thoughts from my head. This is not the time to be thinking about this.

~

“For fucks sake!” I yell, getting fucked over again in Mario Maker.

"You okay?” a thick, tired Irish accent slurs out.

“Yeah,” I sigh, setting aside the controller, “Just getting fucked over. Again.” I feel weight beside me and look over to see Sean cuddled into my side.

“I don’t feel well. Is this okay?” he mutters timidly. I feel my heart start to race.

_You know you like him._

I do not. I don’t like guys.

_Don’t keep denying it. Remember what happened last time you liked a guy and suppressed it?_

I push these thoughts aside and look down at Jack. His eyes are clouded over with sadness and loneliness. I can’t stop my heart from breaking. I wish I could just take these feelings from him to see the bright smile he has that could make anyone smile back. I wrap my arm around him and pull him closer.

“Of course,” I say, holding my pained friend What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

~

I sit on my bed and look at the box. Do I really want to read this? No, but you’ll understand him a bit better. I open the box and scan over the contents again, my heart still shattering. I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that he would do this to himself. He’s so...perfect.

Wait what the _fuck_? Perfect? Did I just call him...perfect?

_Like I said earlier- don’t fucking deny it. You’re gay as hell. You haven’t been able to hold a relationship with a female for longer than five months. You fantasize more about guys-_

Okay. Enough intrusive thoughts for the rest of my life. I slowly unfold the note and look it over.

_I never realized how bad Jack’s handwriting is, damn._

As my eyes move down the page, the urge to go hold him grows.

_Dear whoever the fuck finds my corpse,_

_Hope you’re all relieved that I'm dead. I know I am. Fuck this world. Nobody once in my life has given a genuine fuck about me. However I decided to off myself- hit by a train, hurling myself off a bride, overdosing, hanging myself, slitting my wrists so I bleed out- however I choose, I hope you’re relieved. Mom, dad- I hope this brings you the satisfaction you wanted. Hell, you tried to drown me in my bath when I was 7. Now you finally got what you wanted; your little failure is dead. Gale- fuck you. Fuck you for destroying me in every way humanly possible. I hope my death weighs your conscious until your demise- which you undoubtedly deserve. Whoever finds my body, sorry you had to find a dead body. That shit must suck. Just know that I genuinely wanted this. I need to die. I deserve to die. This world is already fucked. Nobody is gonna miss a stupid piece of shit like me anyways. Hope that since I am dead, you can finally be happy._

_-Sean William McLoughlin_

I throw the note onto the floor, my tear stains evident on the paper. I pace back and forth in my room, on the verge of punching another hole through my wall.

_Why him? WHY HIM?!_

I open my door and head up the stairs to his room, the soft bass from his music vibrating the stairs. I have no idea what I’m doing or why I’m doing this- I’ve all but lost control of my body. I knock on the door. Once I see the younger boy open the door, I engulf him in a hug.

“Please never leave me.” 


	7. Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!MASSIVE DISCLAIMER!!  
>  This chapter contains a realatively detailed rape scene. Please do not read this if you do not think you can handle it. It will be italicized and centered. It is not part of the main plot so if it is skipped, you won't be confused. 
> 
> PLEASE READ IT AT YOUR OWN DESCRETION.

I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

_Shit. I think he read it._

Despite my music being at an ungodly loud volume, I hear his gentle knock on my door. I sigh and hurl myself off my bed.

_He’s kicking you out. Who’d want to live with a fuck up like you?_

I open the door to see tear filled brown eyes. He grabs me and holds me close to him.

_Damn, this man is huggy._

“Please never leave me.” He chokes out. I feel warm tears on my neck, his body shaking ever so slightly.

_Yup. He definitely read it._

“I don’t make promises I cannot keep,” I say after a moment of silence. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to stay alive for as long as I can.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask,” he whispers into my ear, which sends an odd shiver down my spine.

_Not. The. Time._

“Can I sleep in here.” he asks quietly, almost embarrassed to even think to ask said question, “I just...I don’t know. It’d just make me feel better. It’s quite selfish but-”

“Mark, I interrupt, “you’re rambling again. Of course you can. Now shut up and lay down,” I chuckle. I watch his face slowly turn red which causes an awkward laugh to escape my throat Fuck, he’s cute.

You know, crushing on the guy who asked you to move into his apartment isn’t the smartest thing to do? Remember what happened last time you were homeless?

 _Not the stupidest thing you’ve ever done_.

Goddamnit I hate my mind.

~

We sit in my bed, him on his phone, me smoking a cigarette listening to my heavy metal at an unreasonably loud volume for 3 am.

“You know,” Mark sighed, “I wish you wouldn’t smoke. My dad died from lung cancer because of it”

“One habit at a time.”

“Fair enough.” We resume our silence for some time. It’s not awkward or anything. Despite silence typically drives my mind up the wall and the intrusive thoughts become rampant, this silence makes me feel relaxed for once in my life. I put out my cigarette in the ashtray I keep by my bed. I roll over and rest my head on his shoulder

“Whatchya lookin’ up?” I ask. “Therapists for you,” he calmly responds.

“Excuse me?!” I bolt up.

 _Who the fuck does he think he is?!_ “Look,” He sits up and rests his hand on my back which I rudely shove away. I hear him sigh.

Who the fuck gave him the idea that he has the right to choose what I do?! Fuck him.

_You know you want to, Jack._

Not. The. Fucking. Time.

“Sean, please listen to me,” he says desperately

“Why?!” I yell, “You have no fucking right to choose what I do!”

“I’m not forcing you to go,” he sighs.

“Okay then why are you looking up shrinks?!” I yell, slightly less loudly. God forbid my Irish ass wakes up the entire city.

“I’m an engineer, not a psychologist. I’m nowhere near qualified to help you through this. I’m not going to force you to go see one, but I’m looking them up as an option. You can choose whether or not you go, but I have no idea how the hell to properly help you through your problems and get better. I can support you 100% and do my best to help you, but I have no idea how to work through them with you and how to address your addiction issues. I want you to get better, but this is all your choice. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I feel as if it would be something to at least try.”

_Fuck he has a point._

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I sigh. He has a point. He may be wicked smart in the mathematical field, but there isn’t a formula he knows to fix this problem.

“Thank you,” he says with a gentle smile. “I’m going to go to bed. I have work Monday and I don’t want to further fuck up my sleep schedule.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” I say with an awkward smile.

“Night, Jack,” As he nestles under my covers, I get up and turn off my music. Highly doubt he can sleep while his ears are being assaulted by intense bass and drums. I glance over and see the blue haired man curled up in my bed and let me say; it’s fucking adorable. His face slightly burrowed into the pillow with my bedspread pulled up to his chin with his legs slightly curled up towards his chest.

Sean. You are not developing a crush on your best friend.

_Well shit. I think it’s too late to say that._

~

I finally lay down and head to bed as the sun is starting to show. I feel myself drift off into the state of being unconscious.

_Gale walks in, the smell of weed and booze strong with him. I hear laughter and voices echoing throughout the entryway._

_Oh joy, his douchey friends have decided to come back with him. I sigh and can’t help but think how long of a night this is gonna be. Gale stumbles in, his three fuckboys for friends following closely behind, just like the dogs there were. “_

_Hey Jack,” Gale slurs out, stumbling towards me, holding something in a clenched fist._

_Oh no, he’s gonna beat me in front of his friends._

_“_ _Open wide cause you’re gonna be our little whore tonight.” he says with a maniacal smile. His friends walk over to me and hold me down as Gale shoves something down my throat. I start screaming, trying to throw up whatever he forced down my throat but to no avail. His friends cover my mouth and plug my nose, forcing me to swallow the mystery pill. My hands turning red from the constriction their defiling hands are inflicting on me. As I fade out of consciousness, I look up to see the douche I thought loved me smile, evil intentions prevalent in his eyes._

_I wake up, hands bound together in front of me, tied to the headboard. I feel a familiar pain._

_Oh no._

_They fucking raped me._

_Those motherfuc-_

_“_ _Oh would you look at that,” Gale smirks, the evilness in his voice oh so clear, “our little toy is finally up. Ready for round two?” I scream, but am quickly silenced to a blow to the head. “_

_Since you’re gonna be that way,” Gale growls, “we’re just gonna have to shut you up.” He rips up some dingy shirt and approaches me. I kick him as hard as I can in my groggy state. “_

_You’re gonna fucking regret that.” he snarls. “David, you get to go first. Don’t hold back.” Gale ties the torn up shirt around my mouth, then covers it with some duct tape. How fucking cliche. I look up to see the tall, buff guy named David approach me. I knew this guy was fucked up as he has at least five domestic abuse charges, but shit; this is a new level of fucked up. He pulls down his boxers and looks over at his friends “_

_Get your cameras out. This is gonna be a lot more fun than last time” I feel myself get yanked towards the sick fuck, fighting him with all I got._

_“He’s being a fucking shit. Tie him to the bedposts.” I feel the burn of rope around my ankles as each of them are being tied down. Fucking peice if shit bastards. I’ll meet you in hell and make you wish you never touched me. No matter how much I pull at the ropes, there’s no escaping. There’s no getting out of this one. I feel hands on my hips as the shit bag leans over and whispers into my ear “_

_I hope this fucking hurts.” I feel a searing pain as the fucker enters me dry. I cry out in pain, wishing nothing more but to be dead. I look over to see none other than my so-called lover filming this, laughing like a maniac “Oh look at that,” he sneers, “the whore is crying. Make him cry more.” I feel him slam into me at full force. The pain is excruciating, like hell has arisen in me. He keeps going for what feels like eternity. The only “lube” there is is the blood from being torn open. The disgusting shitbag gets off in me and laughs, slamming a fist into my neck._

 

_“_ _This is only the beginning,”_


	8. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a very plot filled chapter and not much development has occured, but I wanted to throw something cute in because the past couple of chapters have been dark as hell.

I wake up to Jack tossing around, making incoherent sounds. I sit up and look over at him. His face is scrunched up and tears are streaming down his face.

“Jack?” I touch him lightly “Wake up. It’s not real.”

The words become comprehensible and I have never wanted to kill someone this badly in my entire fucking life. I remember Jack telling me he was raped, but my god it was hell to see my best friend reliving this hellish experience right in front of me. I hear a scream that curdles my blood and shatters my heart.

“Please stop,” Jack cries out, “Stop! You’re hurting me! I thought you loved me!” I feel tears pour out of my eyes. I wish I could take this pain away from him. He doesn’t deserve this hell. I look over at Jack who is now flailing around miserably.

“Jack!” I yell, “Please, wake up. It’s not real! It’s not real. It’s not real…” Suddenly, the Irishman sits straight up and screams, then puts his head in his hands, sobbing hysterically.

“Jack?” I whisper softly. The only response I get is a scream, a fist to the face, and him hurling himself out of bed, landing in a mess of sheets he managed to kick off the bed. I feel blood pour down my face, an intense pain following suit

_Damn that kid can hit pretty fucking hard_.

“M-mark?” he stutters out through the sobs.

“Yes it’s me,” I look over towards him and see a guilt ridden look come over his face. “Can I hug you or will that send you back into...that?”

“Dude, I just fucking nailed you in the nose,” he laughs, despite still crying, “and you want me to be near you?”

“It’s not your fault. You weren’t in the moment. Now come here if you feel comfortable doing so.” the smaller boy walks over to me, burying his face into my chest.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he quietly whispers.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. You don’t deserve the pain those sick bastards inflicted on you. You deserve happiness.” I feel tears on my shirt even more now. His body is shaking and I hear muffled sobs come from him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. He’s crying more now since I consoled him.

“Nobody has ever cared that much for me,” he mutters, holding back a sob. “I don't get it.”

“Jack,” I sigh, feeling the tears I’ve been holding in be let free. “I will always care. No matter how ‘broken’ you may feel, I won’t leave you. You mean too much to me. I will help you through this for as long as you want me to and I will be by your side until you tell me otherwise.”

“Promise?” a small voice asks. I’ve never heard him be that quiet. I feel my heart shatter for the hundredth time tonight.

“I promise.” 


	9. Reconsideration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also isn't very plot driving. It does help kickstart the story a bit, but isn't a "holy shit this is amazing!" type of chapter. I'm really sorry. The next one gives you some insight on Mark and is a bit on the darker side, so you can look forward to that soon!

I sit in Mark’s lap, sobbing.

 

_Why does he want a fucked up mess like me? He can easily find better people to be around._

 

I feel Mark gently run his hand through my hair while his other is wrapped around my lower back, lightly rubbing circles onto my sides. I hear his softly sing an unfamiliar tune and I feel every tense muscle I had, which was every single goddamn one, relax. That gorgeous motherfucker has a beautiful voice. I could listen to it for hours.

 

Hold the _fuck_ up.

Did _I_ just call my roommate, _Mark Edward Fischbach_ , **_gorgeous_**?

I’m crushing on this little shit so hard.

_Goddamn motherfucking shit._

 

“You okay, Jack?” I hear his voice resonate through his chest.

“Yeah. Just lost in thought,”

“Good or bad?”

“Neither really. Just...thoughts.” I hear a grunt come from him and feel his head rest on mine.

Well he isn’t buying into it despite the fact for once in my life I’m not lying about my feelings.

“So about the therapist thing we talked about last night,” I sigh awkwardly, hating myself for admitting to this, “I think that it’s a good idea and we should look more into it later in the week.”

“Wait really?” he perks up, a sly grin barely visible.

“Don’t make me change my mind, Fischbach.”

“Hush,” he lightly swats my arm, causing me to flinch. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

“Mark,” I grab his wrists and pull him towards me, making intentional eye contact for the first time that I can recall, “I’m not a tiny shard of glass that is on the verge of breaking constantly. Don’t over apologize for doing things that cause a reaction. Chances are, I’m always going to react this way as I’ve been beaten for as long as I can remember. Don’t worry so much. I know it’s a challenge for you because you’re such a mom, but please don’t overthink everything and don’t tread lightly on every topic. I can take more than you’d expect.”

“Okay,” he looks down at the bed, an obvious guilt ridden expression growing on his face.

 

_Did this little shit actually listen to me?_

 

“Now, about finding a therapist,”

~

After a couple hours of searching and comparing therapists, we finally concluded on one that specializes in PTSD and addiction.

“When do you want to start? I’ll make the call in on Monday.” Mark looks over at me.

 

Why is he happy? Is he...proud?

_Yeah, cause someone would be proud of your bitch ass._

God I fucking hate my mind.

 

“How about...next week? Give me time to wrap my head around this and you know, mentally prepare.”

“Okay,” I feel toned arms wrap around my upper body, being pulled closer towards the half-Korean.

“I’m so proud of you, Jack.” 


	10. You Aren't Alone, Jackaboy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!FUCKING READ THIS!!!
> 
> Hope that caught your attention. Thus chapter contains homophobic language and talk about self harm. Do not read this if you are sensitive to this form of content.
> 
> Also feel the need to disclaim that this is 100% fictional. I do not know either of them nor their families. I do not think Mark's family would behave in this way, but for plot they are. This does not represent how his parents act or their beliefs.

After bullshitting around for a bit with Jack, I realize little things about him.

 

He cannot talk with only his voice, he has to use his entire body.

His laugh can fill up an entire room and god damnit it’s beautiful.

 

_Beautiful, eh?_

 

Shit. Shit shit shit shit **shit**.

 

“Hey Jack,” I somehow stutter out, “I’m going to go take a shower. Holler if you need anything, okay?”

“Alright,” he glances over at me really quick then fixates himself back onto the TV. I dart out of the living room and grab the nearest clothes I can find before beelining into my bathroom. I did not want to start my day off with this. As I start up the shower I look down at my thighs. It’s eerie how closely they resemble Jack’s arms. Only difference is all of the words that I carved into my legs the day I realized it.

 

**_Queer. Fag. Disappointment. Filthy._ **

 

All those oh so lovely words carved down my thighs. I fucking hate seeing them there, still prominent from all those years ago.

 

_I walk down the hall of my old high school heading towards the cafeteria. It’s my junior year. There’s this new kid here and holy hell is he attractive. I don’t even know his name yet as we don’t share one class and my school has way too many people to keep track of who is who. Hell, I barely know ⅓ of my grade, let alone the seniors. All I know is he has green meadowy eyes with golden blonde hair and snowy skin- a common look in Ohio. I catch myself staring in his general direction and realize that I’ve been caught._

_Well fuck, this is awkward._

_I look down at my textbooks in hopes that it’ll just be forgotten._

_Holy fuck was I wrong._

_~_

_School is over and I’m in the student parking lot, wanting to get the fuck out of this shithole. I see kids with their friends, talking and laughing. Somedays I really wish I had friends. Suddenly, I feel a tug on my shirt collar. I turn around to see none other than that godsend motherfucker himself._

_“Hey,” he said, his voice is soft and gravely and clearly southren- not one I would’ve expected, but it fits him perfectly. “I caught you staring at me earlier and I just wanted to say-” he steps closer and grabs my neck._

_Oh shit._

_“If ever catch you doing that shit again, I’m gonna beat your fucking face in. Nobody likes a fucking faggot,” he growls and shoves me to the ground._

_~_

_I come home, and just run straight up to my room, refusing to acknowledge my mom or brother. I shut my door, hopefully not slamming it, and hurl my school shit onto my bed. This is why I never wanted to come out. Literally nobody in this hick fuck state likes the idea of two guys loving each other. I’ll fucking lose everyone if they find out. My parents have stated their hatred for homosexuals. I’ve heard them say how disgusting and unnatural it is._

_If only they knew._

_If only they knew what I would do to change this. To be straight. To be what is seen as “normal”. No matter how much I hope, it never changes. I can’t see a future with a girl. I can’t see myself falling in love with a girl. I can’t see myself being what they want. I can’t be what they want, no matter how hard I try._

_I slide down my wall and proceed to lose my shit for what feels like a small eternity. I walk over to my nightstand and pull out the knife my dad gave me for my 15th birthday. I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but fuck it. I’ve thought about it countless times, but never thought I’d be in my bathroom, holding a knife to my skin but today proved my ever growing suspicion that I’m just a fucking peice of shit. Like he said, nobody likes a faggot. Who would it bother? I pull down my pants and look down at my thighs. Clean, unscarred, totally normal. Not for long at least._

_~_

_The first cut hurt the most. It stung like fucking hell and I never knew pain like that. As one cut turned into more, the pain subsided. The release of all those endorphins they teach you about in health class flow through my veins. A shiver runs through my body. Now I know why people get addicted to this._

 

For four years I came home and carved up my leg. The scars were terrible. Risen off of my body, all different shades of tans and red. Some should’ve gotten medical attention. If I couldn’t tell my family that I was gay, why the fuck would I tell them I mutilated myself as they slept? Then, my father died and I stopped that shit right then. I just couldn’t do it. No matter how badly I wanted to I just fucking couldn’t. Showers can be fucking awful. If you stay in there for too long, your mind wanders to the darkest depths of your mind and brings up shit you don’t want to fucking remember. Ever.

~

After getting dressed, I look at myself in the mirror.

 

_Hey Jack, you aren't not the only ‘screw up’ here now, huh?_


	11. Dr. Bartosz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated! I've been doing finals the past week and this totally slipped my mind! I'll be updating more frequently now!

It’s been a week since Mark had set up my therapy appointment which means today is the day.

_Fuck. I regret everything I have ever done ever._

“Hey Jack!” Mark yelled up the stairs, “Ready to go?” “

Yeah,” I yell back.

_Actually, I’m so not ready._

~

The car ride has been hell so far. I’ve gone through three cigarettes in 20 minutes.

“You’ll be fine, Jack. I promise.” I feel him staring at me but I keep staring out the window, hoping to whatever fucker lives in the sky that today can just be done. I feel a hand grab mine.

_Okay cool but why?_

I look over at Mark and watch him as he intentively focuses on the road. I envy him for having the ability to drive. I tried for my license when I moved here and got my citizenship, but the instructor made me pull over after about 15 minutes due to “inappropriate road rage”. Didn’t know screaming at other drivers and constantly having my middle finger up was terrible.

“Hey quit staring,” Mark chuckled, a pretentious tone oh so clear in his voice, “we’re gonna be there in 10 minutes.”

“C-can we just go home? Come back another day?” I feel the world caving in on me my chest constricting and heart about to explode out of my chest.

“I know you don’t want to, but you have to do this someday. I’ll be waiting right here once it’s done and we can do whatever you want once it’s done, okay?”

“F-fine,” I manage to stutter out as we pull into the parking lot. I look over towards the clinic- Briarcliff Disordered Behavior and Addiction Treatment Facility.

 _What a lovely fucking name. Oh so fucking welcoming_.

“You know, you could’ve told me the name of this place,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“If I would’ve told you, you would never have considered coming here. I didn’t feel like dragging in a screaming Irish kid into a therapy center ‘cause you would be going somewhere else that isn’t just an hour long session.”

_Fucking hell this shithead is right a lot._

“True,” I slouch down into the seat. Mark parks his car and looks over at me.

“You got five minutes until you got to check in. Anything you want to talk about before you go in?”

“No. I just want to scream cry and run home. That’s not an option though, I’m guessing.” “

Not at all.” I groan and rest my head in my hands.

**_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fucker fuck of fucks._ **

“You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Wish you could come with me,” I mutter. “I don’t want to do this shit, let alone do it alone.”

“I would, but I’m not your parent or spouse so legally that’s not happening.”

“Well fuck the law!”

“Jack, you’ve broken the law enough times for one single lifetime.”

“Fuck,” I groan and throw my head against the headrest. I fucking hate this. I don’t want to pay some random ass fucker to hear my stupid first world problems and then judge me based on it. There’s a fucking reason I avoid psychologists like the plague. I’m already aware I’m fucked up. I don’t need someone with a piece of paper to tell me so. I don’t need someone to listen to my problems. I never have before and everything was fine.

Wait… _Shit_.

“You should probably head in. It is 10:30 and you probably need to fill out insurance forms and all that. I’ll be here when you get out, okay?”

“Okay…” I go to leave the car, but am stopped by the most awkward hug I’ve felt in some time.

_Ah cars and your perfect structure for human contact._

“You’ll be just fine. I’m so proud of you.”

~

After filling out a wasteful amount of paperwork about literally everything from my medical history to what I had for breakfast (which was a drive thru breakfast sandwich, if you cared to know), I’m called back into the shrink’s office. He doesn’t seem like he’d be too much of a prick- short, small-framed, white hair with a receding hair line and bifocals hanging around his neck.

Cliche as fuck shrink: an old tiny white guy. “Ah, Mr. McLoughlin, a pleasure to meet you! I am Dr. Albin Bartosz. Come this way!”

_Holy shit this motherfucker is straight from Poland. How thick of an accent can one person have?!_

_Oh. Wait…Have I not heard myself talk?! _

“So according to what information we were given by your...friend I presume? You were reluctant to come here?” he asks, flipping open a notepad.

_Already psychoanalyzing me? Fucking hell._

“Yeah. Unfamiliar territory I guess,” I mutter.

_Get. Me. Out._

“Understandable. Care to share why you are here?”

_Jesus fucking Christ I met you less than five minutes ago and you are already asking me shit I barely felt comfortable telling my only friend of three years._

“Shit family. Shit past relationships. End result was fucking myself up.”

_Great description, Jack. Also what a wide variety of vocabulary. Really showing off your intelligence. You dumb fuck._

“I see,” he mutters, taking notes rather detailed for what little I just said. “Would you like to elaborate?”

 

_I’m going to fucking kill you, Fischbach._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes- I made an AHS Asylum reference. I couldn't resist.
> 
> And yes, I am bashing on psychologists. I plan to be one so I'm ripping on myself as well.


	12. Battle Between Myself and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is alone in the car and has some time to think about the things he's been pushing aside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing exciting happened here. Just me wanting to make some sassy comments through Mark's conversation with himself.
> 
>  
> 
> Side note: If you read the one-shot I posted a couple days ago and are reading this- thank you for not leaving me. I needed to write something not happy because I just felt like destroying people and I haven't seen some angsty angst in awhile so I decided to change that. Please still love me *puppy dog eyes in hopes for approval*

Waiting an hour alone is a lot more tiresome than one would imagine. Also it’s hell if you have intrusive thoughts much like myself.

 

_So, when are you gonna tell him you’re fucked up too?_

I was actually planning sometime between never and no fucking chance in hell.

_Aw c’mon! The irony would be so funny! You saving him when you can’t even look in the mirror without wanting to shatter it. When are you going to explain to him why your hands are scarred to hell? It’ll really show him what a mess you are. He’ll leave you and you’ll be alone. Just what you deserve._

Telling him will also occur sometime between never and no chance in hell.

_Just do it! He’ll find out one day. Especially after last night’s dream._

**Oh shit.**

_Oh shit is right, gay boy._

I am not gay. I am straight...maybe bi?

_Then explain why you break up with a girl the second sex is brought up?_

Maybe I’m asexual?

_That’s not what last night’s dream implied._

Okay enough.

I crank up the radio in hopes to blast the bullshit of a subconscious I was cursed with out of my head. I close my eyes to try to get my head aligned.

_...Maybe I am gay?_

 

~

 

I’m woken up by a knock on my window.

_Shit, did I seriously pass out?_

“Hey, if you could let me in, I’d really appreciate that,” Jack slyly remarks, putting his hand on his hip and makes his stance all cocky and sassy.

_Irish and their sass. Fucking hell._

I unlock the doors and turn down the radio so Jack’s ear drums aren’t assaulted the second he walks in. “How’d it go?”

“I never want to come back. I have an appointment this coming Thursday at noon.”

“Well I’m proud of you for sticking with it,” I smile, trying to convey how much I mean it. Hell, when I was like this I full on refused any sort of help. When teachers became suspicious cause I was always tired and my gym teachers noticed my weight was dropping when we had our BMI testing done (thank you self esteem for encouraging the development of anorexia). Second I was out of home though- I got myself on some pills in hopes to stop this madness. So the fact that the stubborn leprechaun took my advice for once, I’m quite impressed.

“Yeah. He wasn’t too much of a pretentious dick bag. Just asked me a lot of questions I didn’t want to answer.”

“You know the only way this will actually work is if you tell him what’s wrong?”

“Yeah, I know. I just wish there was a magic pill- that I can legally use- to make this shit easier.”

“That’s called anti-depressants. Except they don’t make you ‘happy’. They make you numb.”

“And how exactly do you know that?”

_Oh fuck._

How do you casually tell your roommate you got your doctor to prescribe you an antidepressant because you told the actually truth on those stupid mental health surveys?

“Mark?” I feel a soft touch on my arm, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“We can talk about that later, okay? I want to focus on you right now.” I see him opening his mouth to protest, but he slumps back in defeat.

 

This is gonna be an awkward car ride home. 


	13. Ice Cream Parlor Fuckery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had my pupils dialated today along with being on sedatives so I have no idea what this is but I tried.

The car ride is silent.

Awkwardly silent.

_Maybe there’s a reason he’s so hell bent on fixing you. Maybe he gets it. Or maybe he wants you to think that, build you back up, and then break you to itty bitty tiny pieces._

I shake those oh so reassuring thoughts from my head. I stare out the window and watch as we pass by cute little stores until something catches my eye.

An ice cream parlor. I haven’t been to one in years!

“Mark!” I exclaim, slamming my fist into the other man’s chest which earns me a wheeze and the most hilarious expression I’ve seen in sometime. Eyes bulging out, colorless skin, tensed up face muscles and his mouth open ready to let out a shriek.

“What?! Is everything okay?! Are you okay?! Did we hit someone?!” He somehow manages to say with one hyperventilated breath.

“I saw an ice cream parlor! Can we go?” I smile sweetly, knowing that the American is going to want to beat my face in after that stunt.

“Fucking shit Jack,” he sighs out, pulling off to go park, “Don’t EVER do that shit to me unless I just hit something or you see something coming out of the side of the road.”

“I hallucinate. Don’t think I’m really reliable for that.”

“Well that was a casual way to say something that would’ve been nice to know a while ago.”

“Oh! Mark, I think I need to tell you something very important that will make you understand me a bit better and it’s something you need to know as we live together. I have auditory and visual hallucinations.”

“I swear to God if I didn’t care as much as I do about you, you’d be bleeding.”

 

~

 

We sit down at the parlor after ordering our ice cream. He got rocky road and I decided on some chocolate concoction with peanut butter chunks.

“You didn’t have to pay, you know,” I say through a mouthful of dairy deliciousness.

“I told you we could do whatever after your appointment. Therefore, I insist that it is my treat.”

“You little shit,” I mutter, “but thank you though. I do really appreciate it”

“Of course” He smiles, a bit of ice cream runs down his chin, causing me to awkwardly attempt, and fail, to stifle a chuckle. Which gracefully results in me inhaling a chunk of peanut butter, choking me for a brief second before coughing it up onto the table.

“Okay quick question: what the fuck just happened?” he laughs.

“You had some ice cream on your chin, it made me laugh, I inhaled and choked for a sec and then proceeded to cough it up onto the table like the trash that I am,” I mutter with much embarrassment. I hear him laugh, and damn it sends a weird feeling throughout my body.

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

 

~

 

We finally arrive home and holy shit, it feels nice. Anxiety and being away from your safe space is never a fun feeling. A slight tinge of paranoia will linger until you're back in a place you feel nobody will hurt you. I throw myself face first into the couch and let out a strange combination of a scream and groan.

“You okay there?” Mark asks. I look up to see him pouring two cups of coffee.

“Peachy.”

“Residual stress?” I groan for a response. I just want today to be over. I don’t want to be awake and thinking about all the shit I had to talk about today. I feel myself being moved into a proper stance, only to result in me falling limp into the middle of the couch.

“Can I sit here too?”

“Ngh” I pull my upper half up enough to let him sit down, only to resume my previous position once he is seated.

“Why?”

“Exhaused.”

“Want to go to bed?”

“It’s three in the afternoon and I have classes in the morning. I don’t feel up to fucking up my sleep schedule. Let me just be emotionally dead for a couple hours.”

“Fair enough.” I feel Mark’s arm move to grab the TV remote.

“I’m gonna play some bloodborne if that’s okay,”

“Go for it,” I enjoy watching Mark play games. He gets so...into it sometimes. He makes sassy remarks about characters and yells absurdities when he dies of something stupid that is “100% the games fault” when in reality, it’s usually his stupidity. Something about it never fails to bring a smile to my face. If only there was a way for him to share this with the rest of the world. I grab a blanket off the back of the couch and curl into the corner, watching him attenitivly. Honestly, I’m not paying attention to the game- I’ve played it myself. I’m watching the older one of us dramatizing the situations at hand and cursing out random enemies.

 

I fall asleep to the soothing sound of his voice. 


	14. Future Trips to IKEA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another filler chapter because I lack creativity and I thought Jack knocking a lamp over in his sleep would be funny.  
> I wrote this after a 7 hour shift at work (So this was written around am) and I don't feel like editing at all, so deal with this for now. Better chapters are on the way.

I look over and see the green haired leprechaun curled up in the corner of the couch. His hair is astrewn across his snowy skin, eyes fluttering once in awhile. A small smile occasionally toyed at his slightly parted lips.

_Damn, he looks at ease. Genuinely content. I would do anything to make him like this while being conscious._

Yes, I have accepted that I, Mark Fischbach, am slowly falling for the high strung mysterious little shit I call my roommate. And damn, I fucking hate myself for it.

~

I glance over at the clock. It’s been three hours since we’ve gotten home and Jack is still very much passed out.

_How little sleep did Jack get last night? He’s out like a light._

I see him stir in his sleep and make a strange grunt followed by something I never expected.

My name.

Jack literally just muttered _my, **my, MY**_ fucking name while asleep. Metaphorically, my heart exploded.

_It could be bad, you know. Don’t always get your fucking hopes up dumbass._

I feel him stir and stretch out, knocking over a lamp in the process.

_And of course, he’s still asleep and we need a new lamp. Goddamnit._

“Jack?” I rub his arm, attempting to wake him up. “Jack you broke a fucking lamp get up,” to which I only earn a groan as a response. “Sean William McLoughlin wake up,” I shake him lightly. He bolts up and starts muttering a mix of Irish and nonsense.

“The fuck happened?! WHY DID YOU WAKE ME UP?!”

“You knocked over the lamp on the end table. So we need to plan a trip to IKEA to replace it as it is no longer functionable.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah”

“Shit.”

“It’s fine. Shit happens. Go back to sleep. You look like you’re a zombie.”

“Fine,” I hear a groan and feel him lay back down.

“In your bed, you doof,”

“I’m not moving.”

“Do I have to carry you?”

“...Yes.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes.”

“You’re even more of a child than I thought.” I carefully scoop the boy into my arms and begin to bring the needy shit to his room.

“Hey Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything.” 


	15. Accidents Reveal Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay I felt bad about the shit that was the last chapter so here I am, posting another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: The suicide attempt and hospitalization mentioned in this chapter is based off my own experience. The suicide attempt I did was what I decided to use for Marks- almost exactly (I ended up calling an ambulance for myself, not my friend) along with the hospitalization. I have been hospitalized three times and for plot reasons, I used the worst experience I had. If you are suicidal or anything, please for the love of whatever you do or don't believe in- get help. It does get better believe it or not. If you want a way to get ahold of me outside of AO3, let me know and I will give you my tumblr and do my best to help you. You aren't alone and trust me, it does get better.  
> -Bails

It’s been three months since Mark convinced me to see a therapist. Personally, I don’t see any changes. Mark and Dr. Bartosz seem to disagree, however. Apparently I’m happier than I have been before and my meds are working fully. Forgot to mention they put me on Prozac for the PTSD, depression, and bipolar disorder. Never would’ve thought I’d be that fucked up. Oh and then Xanax for when the anxiety attacks get too bad. Mark is being a mom and ensuring I take my pill every morning before he goes to work. The little shit wakes me up, stays in the room until I take it, then heads off to work. I never knew why he cared so much.

Until today.

It was a typical Saturday. Mark was cooking breakfast in his boxers. Ever since he found out about my issues he’s been cooking meals whenever he can. How fucking domestic. I walk downstairs and see him dancing around the kitchen.

_Goddamn, he’s adorable._

And then I saw them. His thighs are so disfigured, closely resembling my arms. Words carved into his flesh. Scars are raised off his shin, ranging in colors. They appear to be quite old.

_So that’s why he cares so much._

I look up to see Mark staring at me, a look of horror plastered across his face. He bolts out of the kitchen into his room. I try to call out to him but the only response I get is a slamming door. I run over to his room and begin pounding on the door.

“Mark, please let me in.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“No.”

“Mark I swear to god if I have to bust this door off its hinges I won’t hesitate.”

“Don’t do that”

“Well open the fucking door or I will.” I hear a click and see him standing there, teary eyed and on the verge of breaking right in front of me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You had your own issues to worry about and I’m doing better now.”

“You don’t have to prioritize me, you know.”

“I’m going to.”

“Why?”

“Because the last thing I want is for you to end up like I did.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I started doing this shit when I was 16. When I was 19 I damn near killed myself by overdosing on whatever the fuck I could find for pills in my house and downing them with booze. My friend called the ambulance on me because I was sending him strange text messages. I spent a month in a psychiatric hospital. Found out I had dysthymia and ADHD along with traits of countless other disorders, but not enough to fully have the disorder. I got put on Ritalin and Paxil, got matched with a therapist who I saw until I moved to California. Found one when I moved out here and here we are.” I couldn’t help but pull him in for a hug.

He seemed so...happy though.

_You should know better than anyone else the art of faking it._

“I never want to see you end up in one of those hospitals. They are terrible. There’s people there that are genuinely insane. There are people who want to commit murder. That may be the one I got sent to, but I never want you to end up there. I never want to see you that depressed and alone. I never want you to feel that pain.” I feel his tears pool up on my shirt. I pull him closer to me and begin to trace circles on his back, just like he does when I have a nightmare or panic attack. I begin to realize something.

_Maybe I actually am cared about._


	16. Relapses and Impulses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've fallen into the dark depths known as a depressive episode so I am so fucking sorry that this is late. And future chapters will be delayed as well as I'm doing classes until next month and am working 4/7 days a week and soon to be more so everything is a mess right now. I will try my hardest to update fairly frequently, but it will be sparatic as fuck. I'm sorry it's not going to be consistent anymore.  
> (Fun fact: I wrote this as there were four people touring my apartment as it's on the market)  
> (Another fun fact: I spent twenty minutes googling "shitty movies on Netflix" and chose this one at random)

It’s been three months since I opened up to Jack. We routinely check each other for new cuts and I look through his room to see if there’s a stash, which he is okay with of course. We are actually getting...better. Jack takes his meds without me having to shove them down his throat. Literally. The first two weeks I pinned him to the ground and shoved that damned tablet down his throat with him screaming in Irish and punching me repeatedly. Progress? I don’t know. I think he’s happy. I know I’m happy.

~

I’m sitting on the couch playing Dark Souls. Yes, I am getting my ass handed to me thank you for noticing. I hear the door open and a loud thunk followed by an Irish sigh.

“How was school?” I ask, unable to turn around as I’m being ganged up on by those bastard skeletons.

“It was school. Fuckin boring and school like.” I hear shuffling and feel a weight drop on my shoulder. I look down to see a fluff of green on me.

“Did I say?”

“No. But you also didn’t say so fuck off.”

“Well then you little shit” I nudge my elbow into his arm, only to get a hiss in response.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m fine. I’ll be right back.”

“Jack get your ass back here.” I grab his sweatshirt and yank him back over to me, resulting in him stumbling and collapsing onto my lap.

“Shirt off now.”

“Jeez, take me on a date first.”

“Not the time.” I watch as he peels off his blue hoodie and see a mess of scars along his arm. Zig zagged, some deep as hell others superficial. Some leaking blood from the aggravation I caused. Dried blood covered his entire arm, bits of it flaking off as he moves. I look up to see tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry…”

“When?” I softly ask, about to cry myself.

“At school in the bathroom. Had a flashback and just...couldn’t help it. Do you hate me now?”

“Jack,” I pull him near, “I could never, ever, hate you. Relapse is part of recovery, okay? You went six months without cutting. I’m so damn proud you made it this far. It’s okay. It happens and I’m still here for you, no matter what.” We stand in the living room, holding each other as we cry.

~

We spent the rest of the evening playing video games, eating takeout pizza, and watching the shittiest movies we could find on Netflix as that always cheers Jack up. We’re watching some RomCom called Jersey Girl, I think? I don’t know as I haven’t been paying any attention to it. My thoughts are too loud to give a shit about the horrendous movie playing. I feel a warm presence inch near me. I glance down to see Jack coming near me. I fill the distance and pull him closer to me. He responds by wrapping his arms around me and nestles his head into my neck.

 _Nothing weird about two bros platonically cuddling, right? It’s totally platonic, nothing gay happening on this couch. No homo. No homo among to platonic homo bros being platonically affectionate. My accelerating heart rate? These thoughts? Totally part of the platonic bro code_.

“Hey Mark?” Jack whispers, his breath tickling my neck causing goosebumps. “Yes?” I look down, my brown eyes are met by blue. “

I’m gonna try something,” he sits up and moves closer to me

“Wha-” I’m cut off by a pair of lips against mine. 


	17. Awoken Butterflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm posting the three remaining chapters because I can. Hope you enjoy them!

If you were to ask me what was going through my mind when I kissed my roommate, I would say nothing because I literally had no idea what I was thinking- if I was at all. Now, if you were to ask what I was thinking when he kissed me back, the answer would be me screaming as that’s all I did- scream internally. After what feels like a combination of two seconds and eternity, we break apart.

“So,” I trail off, “the weather, aye?” I mentally punched myself in the face.

_Creative. How original. 10/10 for being a fucking dumbass._

“You may have evaded everything in your life, but you aren’t evading this.”

“Well that sucks for you ‘cause I am evading it.”

“Jack,” he glares, “for once in your life, don’t be a shit.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

“Care to explain why you just did that?”

“Impulse. Felt like it,”

“That it?”

“What? Do you want me to go on this long spiel of how I fell in love with you the day I made eye contact with you and how I’ve been dreaming of you every night and praying every night for you to make the first move, but eventually my love for you grew too strong and I just went for it? Cause that would be a load of shit.”

“Well, when you fell asleep on the couch after your first therapy appointment, you did mutter my name while you slept so I am questioning how much of a load of shit this is,” he smirks at me seeing my look of embarrassment mixed with horror.

“Ex-excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re the one that’s full of shit!”

“With how defensive you are right now, I don’t think I am,” he leans back into the couch with his arms folded and a sly grin plastered across his stupid face.

“So? What if I was dreaming about killing you or some shit?!”

“Pretty sure you would’ve said that by now.”

“Fuck it.” I throw myself back onto the couch, knees pulled up to my chest obviously pouting from being outed.

“I’ve probably done the same thing, don’t worry.”

“Excuse me?” “I like you more than a friend,” I look over at him. His eyes are glued to the floor and he’s cracking his knuckles repeatedly, a nervous habit I’ve noticed.

“But you’re straight?”

“I honestly wish I was, but I’m not. That’s why I developed depression. I grew up in fucking Ohio- land of corn and bible thumpers. Nobody likes the LGBT community there. I mean fuck, I got singled out for being biracial. Me coming out as gay would’ve been the end of me.” I see tears drop onto his hands. Fuck.

“Ireland is hella Catholic. One kid came out and killed himself three months later. Fucking hell, why can’t people just...be nice.” “

I don’t know.” He trails off, still refusing to make eye contact. We sit in silence for awhile.

“Does your mom know?” I ask quietly.

“No. I’m too terrified to tell her. Even in Korea homosexuality is seen as bad so her living in Hicktown, USA wouldn’t have changed her mind.”

“I’ve seen you Skype your mom. She seems to really love you.”

_I envy him. _

“That could easily change.” 

“Only tell her if you want.” 

“Jack?” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you like me back?” 


	18. Awoken Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***SUICIDE ATTEMPT IN THIS CHAPTER DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH SUICIDE ATTEMPTS OR JUST SUICIDE IN GENERAL***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.

“Do you like me back?” Regret filled me as soon as the words fled my mouth.

A _nd now, you have fucked it all up._

“No shit I like you back. I don’t go around and kiss my best friends just because I can. I’m not that much of a whore.” “

Ah. Okay…” I look away awkwardly, smile tugging at my lips. “

Get over here you dipshit,” Jack exclaims as he pulls me near him.

~

Two months. Two months since Jack changed everything. Who would’ve known that someone as foolish as him could make my world so much brighter. It’s not like much has changed. We just kiss and Jack’s room has become a guest room. We’re still assholes to one another and we bicker a bit- but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Until, I realized loving someone with a mental illness isn’t going to be easy.

Jack has always been a defiant shit bag- always. The stories he tells me from when he was a child to how he acts now shows he’s always been hard headed. So one night after him having a terrible flashback, convincing him to put the pills down wasn’t an easy task.

 

~

 

I roll over and feel the left side of my bed is cold

_The fuck?_

I glance over towards the clock and can vaguely make out that it’s 3:18 am.

_Where the fuck is Jack?_

I fumble with my glasses and head out into the living room.

_Maybe he got the late night munchies?_

As I’m walking out to the kitchen, I see that our bathroom light is on. As I make my way over to the door, I hear soft sobs and incomprehensible words flow out from underneath the door.

_Shit._

“Jack?” I go to open the door, only to find that it’s locked. “Jack, open the door.”

Nothing.

“Jack, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m making it.”

I hear a choked sob.

“God Dammit, Jack” I mutter as I slam my body against the door.

Nothing.

“Fucking hell,” I groan. I search around the room to find something to bust the door down.

Nothing.

_Fucking hell._

I run out into the entryway and search frantically throughout the closet.

_Aha! A crowbar._

_How fucking cliche_.

I make my way back to the bathroom and listen for a bit.

I hear nothing.

I frantically pry the door open and what awaits me on the other side is worse than any nightmare I have ever seen.

 

Blood. Blood fucking everywhere. Splattered all over the counter, smeared across the walls. It seems like every square inch has a bit within it. There’s four bottles of pills. One is my Paxil, which has been spilt across the counter. His most recent addition, Abilify, is half empty. There’s an empty bottle of Prozac on the floor, a few tablets lingered around. Then in his blood covered hands, I see him clutching to the bottle as if it’s the entity keeping him alive right now.

“Jack!” I run over to him, crouching down to put him on the counter to clean the blood off his now very mangled arms. “Jack, answer me”

“Let me die, I’m just a burden anyways,” he barely manages to croak out.

“We’re going to the ER,” I say, throwing down the once white towel, attempting to pick him up. Despite how dazed he is, he swings at me, making contact a couple times.

“Don’t you fucking get it?! I. Want. This. I can’t fucking take this shit anymore!” I feel his fist collide with my jaw, hard enough to leave an obvious mark.

“No. No you don’t.” I slowly start to walk closer to him, only to be met by a fist to the gut.

“Yes I fucking do! I can’t fucking sleep without seeing that lowlifes face! I can’t even fucking walk around campus alone without the fear of him appearing. I can’t fucking live like this anymore. I don’t want to. I want it to go away and this is the only way I can guarantee it will!” I watch as Jack collapses to the floor, sobbing yet again. I see his hands start to try to open the pills.

“Give me them.” I grab his hands, pulling at the bottle- no longer caring the hits I take.

“Fuck off and let me die!” I feel a hard impact on my cheekbone that knocks me onto my back. I see him start to pour those damned green tablets into his bloody hand. Without thinking, I lunge at him, pinning him down.

“Drop them. Drop them right fucking now.”

“Fuck you.” I grab his wrist tightly, trying to hit a nerve that will force him to do the right thing for once tonight. Eventually after countless kicks, screams, and destructive words thrown at me, the toxic green fuckers fall out of his hands. I look down at Jack, who has become oddly quiet, and see his face gone whiter than snow. His small frame taking in shallow breaths.

_Oh fuck no._

I pick him up and haul ass into my car.

_You aren’t dying on me, Jackyboy._


	19. Mistakes and Forgiveness

I hear a faint beeping rhythm accompanied by quiet voices murmuring amongst themselves.

_Where the fuck am I?_

I open my eyes and see wires all over me, connecting to a heart rate monitor.

_The fuck did I do this time?_

I look over to see a doctor typing away on his laptop. After some time, he glances over at me through thick framed bifocals and walks towards me.

“You’re awake now, eh?” he mutters.

_Pretty sure I am, hence why my eyes are open and making contact with your beady ones._

“Y-yeah,” I groan. “Why am I here?”

“You don’t recall?”

_How do you have a doctor's license, you dumbfuck?_

“Uh, no actually.”

“Not surprising. You did lose quite a bit of blood and did take quite a concoction of prescriptions.”

_Fuck._

“Oh.” I mutter. “How did I get here?”

“Your roommate. Speaking of which, I should go let him know you're awake now. My nurse will stay here with you, if you’d like.” I glance over and see some dude, clearly wanting to get the fuck outta here, glaring at me.

“I’d like to be alone, if that’s fine.”

“Alright, push the button if you need anything. Your friend will be in here shortly,” the two walk out leaving me to stare at the ceiling.

_Way to go, dipshit._

My thoughts are halted when I hear shoes squeaking against limonium, which causes me to airily cuckle.

_I’m not going anywhere, Mark. Chill._

I glance over to see the curtain being flung open.

_What the fuck happened to you?_

Mark’s face is covered in freshly forming bruises. His upper lip has remnants of blood on it. His clothes are smeared with blood. Without context, I’d suspect him for committing at least assault.

“What the hell?” we both say at the same time.

“What do _you_ mean ‘what the hell’?! I watched you get so fucking close to death it was fucking terrifying. You were begging me to let you die. Look down at your arms, you lost more blood than I’ve seen in my entire life, You scared the fucking shit out of me,” I feel him sobbing next to me. I look down at my arm and holy fuck. There’s at least 30 stitches in just my left arm.

“What happened to you? You look like shit,” I mutter.

“Your stubborn ass. You were so hell bent on dying you did all... this,” he looked down at the floor.

_No._

_Fuck no._

_I did not do that._

_Did I?_

Fuck my life- send me to hell. I...I did that to...to you?” I barely choke out, feeling the hotness of tears brew behind my eyes.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

“God damnit I’m a piece of shit,” I feel the tears stream down my face.

“I’m not mad at you, you know?”

“Why not? You should fucking hate me.”

“I could tell it wasn’t the true you. I know you well enough that you wouldn’t do this. You can’t even kill a spider without feeling remorseful. I’m not mad at you, Jack. I just wanted you to be okay. I could care less about my face- bruises heal.”

“Holy shit. You, Mark Edward Fischbach, care more about my life than your face? I’m flattered. I don’t know how to handle such an honor. I’d like to thank-”

“Glad to know you're okay, Jack” I feel him mutter against my lips with a smile.


	20. Finding Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys- this is it for this fic! It was so much fun to work on and this is my first time ever doing something like this so I’m in awe of the amazing feedback I got on this. This story is based off of personal experiences, although some events are dramatized for plot reasons, and writing this has helped me face the emotions and problems from my past that I was burying and writing the ending this way is pretty much forcing me to accept the fact that even though I to m like Jack in this AU, I can be happy too. For all those who are like me and Jack in this fic, you will find your Mark one day- even if it ends up being just a friend or even yourself. I’ve learned that sometimes people will screw you over and you’ll have to pick yourself up- and that’s okay. As someone with BPD, a disorder that relies heavily on others, I have learned that sometimes you’re the only friend you have and you gotta be there for yourself., but back on topic. In all honesty, I wasn’t expecting this to go very far. I didn’t know how the fandom would take it as it’s kinda dark and I see mostly smut and fluff here, which is fine- not much of a smut person, but I will sin occasionally. No shame. Some of you who have left comments have really been my motivation to keep going. So thank you to those who have said some amazing words to me- you have no idea how much they have impacted this story (and yes, I am a full on creep and can recognize your user and automatically know who you are/ what you have said before and I love you all v v much and if I could I would hug each of you). I will be writing more once I am out of school which is in the end of May. If you have any requests for future fics or pairings, please let me know and chances are, I will write it. Thank you so much to those of you who have stuck with me throughout this entire story- I cannot thank you enough. <3

It’s been two years since the... incident. I can’t help but to think how far I’ve come since that day. Yeah, I still have days where a bullet through my head sounds really appeasing but those days have become less and less frequent. I still have my episodes of relapse. Hell, three months ago Mark found me tripping balls on LSD in the kitchen. Not my proudest moment. Eight months ago I had to be driven to the hospital to get some stitches put in my arm cause I practically cut to the bone due to a flashback. Also not my proudest moment. There are days when I wonder how I got so fucking lucky to find someone who cares that much about me. I’m not used to love, as pathetic as that sounds. It’s terrifying. I don’t know what healthy is supposed to be like so I’ll just yell at him for god knows why to the point that we’re both crying and every time that happens, he assures me that he’ll never leave no matter how rough things get. He doesn’t blame me for the crazy shit I do for some reason. He doesn’t get mad when I say I need space. He never uses the shit in my head against me. He never tells me that I just need to grow up. He understands and even though it’s been five years since I met this kid, he hasn’t gotten fed up with my shit. He hasn’t given up on me and I’m so fucking thankful he hasn’t because he’s the best thing in my life, but the fear lingers. The sweet reassuring words he whispers every night before bed have made the fears die more and more however. It’s just strange to be happy. Like, genuinely happy. I honestly forgot what true happiness feels like. I forgot what the strange sensation in your chest feels like, the blood rushing to your cheeks when the one you love says the words that wake up the butterflies in your stomach. I forgot what it felt like to have a smile reach your eyes. I forgot what it felt like and goddamnit, I missed it. Throughout thick and thin, heaven and hell, euphoria and chaos- he promises me to always catch me when I fall.


End file.
